


Mating Rituals 1.5

by PanzerSoul



Category: The Wandering Inn - pirateaba
Genre: Gen, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-16
Updated: 2019-10-16
Packaged: 2020-12-17 13:34:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21055250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PanzerSoul/pseuds/PanzerSoul
Summary: An unofficial sequel the the "Mating Rituals" side story by pirateaba





	Mating Rituals 1.5

Mating Rituals 1.5 (fanfic)

Port Tortuga, a coastal city originally founded by [Pirates] not long after the first humans settled down in Izril from Terrandria.

Just as [Bandits] would settle on any road with sufficient traffic on land, it’s only natural that [Pirates] would start appearing the moment traffic between the two continents began to pick up. And of course, these [Pirates] couldn’t exactly land their ships at First Landing, so they set up base a little more than a little further down the coastline.

While it was originally located much further north, as the areas regularly patrolled by ships expanded, Port Tortuga kept having to shift further and further southwards, to its current position.

These days Port Tortuga exists as an open secret, a place where one could purchase products that are not quite legal enough to be on the open markets, or items of “dubious origin”, as well as partake in activities that are often frowned upon by society.

“I’m telling you Seborn, this is a bad idea. I know you have the best intentions but~”  
Moore started sheepishly, only to be cut-off by his companion.

**“It’s not like we have anything better to do, with Jelaqua off playing “which body shall I sleep in today” with that Dullahan. This will be a good experience for you, and I need to get up and do something. No offence to Erin, but I’m going to get cranky if I stay there much longer.”**

This wasn’t the first time Moore and Seborn has had this conversation, or the second. As reluctant as Moore seems to be, the fact that he hasn’t quite vetoed the split-second decision for a detour shows that he’s still on the fence and not quite rejecting the idea.

After their little conversation back at the Wandering Inn, Seborn had run some quick calculations in his head and found that it was only a short trip on the wagon from where they left off to Port Tortuga. He estimated that he and Moore could head there, spend a night, and be resume the journey by tomorrow.

“I don’t know, this all seems so sudden. What if Jelaqua decides to pop by the wagon tonight and finds it in the middle of Tortuga?”

**“Hah! That’s unlikely. Even if she does, so what? We’re not doing anything wrong. I’ve been trying to convince you to do this for years, and I’m not going to let this opportunity pass us by.”**

It was just as they were having this conversation that the city gates rolled into view. The walls were nowhere near as impressive as Liscor’s, or even Celum’s. In fact, it was barely at the level of Esthelm after it was rebuilt.

After all, the walls were only meant to prevent monsters from entering the town freely.

In fact, there weren’t even any guards posted at the gates. Traffic was entirely unscreened. The gates would only be closed in event of monster attacks.

Half an hour later, the duo checked in at an inn with the reputation for being more secure. At a place like this, paying a little more money to make sure that none of your possessions went “missing” during your stay would save you money in the long run, especially if you’re carrying gold-rank adventurer gear.

Moore and Seborn stowed said gold-rank gear in their rooms under lock, key, and the watchful eyes of the inn’s [Bouncers] before heading out onto the streets and into the main reason they were here.

That is, the Red Light Districts.

**“Alright, let’s split up here.”**

Seborn suddenly said as after leading Moore to an intersection, already about to turn away.

“Wait, what do you mean split up? Where are you going?”

**“Let’s just say that you and I have different tastes, Moore. The five streets over there are what you’re looking for. I know that House 23 on row 4 has a reputation for taking all customers, but I’d recommend taking a look around before choosing.”**

Having said that, Seborn left a thoroughly confused Moore in the middle of the street. And there Moore stood until someone yelled at him to move his fat ass as he was blocking the road.

The Red Light Districts in Tortuga cn be split into 2 types. The first type, the one Seborn left Moore at, can be considered the more organised type of the two; with proper establishments (also known as “Brothels”) featuring private rooms and showers. “The full works”, in other words.

While these establishments are more pricey, you could take your time (but not too much time) and conduct your business in peace.

As Moore wandered these crowded streets, trying to avoid looking too closely at the women calling out to pedestrians, he realises that even these establishments had their differences.

For example, those run by the Islanders had their entire first floor open for viewing. The shop front was torn down so that passersby could see the working ladies lounging about in various states of dress.

Standing in the front would be, oddly enough, not someone with a [Bouncer] class or anything similar, but by a [Mama-san].

These [Mama-sans] were often retired prostitutes and can be considered the equivalent of a [Pimp] in other cultures. Customers would approach the [Mama-san] to let her know which one (or several) of the ladies he wants, and after paying a fee they would be led upstairs to spend their time.

Despite the lack of obvious security measures, troublemakers often find themselves knocked-out by unknown means.

[Ninjas], obviously.

It was one of these establishments that Moore first approached, attracted by the friendly, but non-aggressive [Mama-san] and the relatively peaceful atmosphere.

“Yes! Yes! Half-giant! No problem!”

The [Mama-san] sidled up to the nervous Moore. For someone so large, the quarter-or-one-eighth giant can be rather shy in situations like this. Even if it was an older lady, it’s not often that an unfamiliar woman would approach him so casually.

“We have girls who can handle any size! Lilly and Sally have [Elasticity] skill! They can stretch very big!”

Moore turned red, clearly unused to such topics being discussed so openly.

“That’s... nice, miss. A-and how much would...?”

“Ah, 10 gold 1 hour, 1 shot! If you want both girls, I can give discount! 15 gold!”

Moore’s eyes blinked at the price. It’s not that he couldn’t afford it. It’s just that that was much more than he had expected or was willing to spend.

Was this price tag normal?

“I-I’m sorry, but on second thought~”

“You don’t like? Oh! Maybe you prefer _guy_! If so, I recommend my sister’s place over the other stree~”

* * *

  
There are 2 types of Red Light Districts in Tortuga. The first type would be the organised establishments found in certain areas of town.  
The second type can be found... Well, anywhere.

They were the freelance [Whores] and [Prostitutes] (why are there two classes that are basically the same thing?) who operate all over the city.  
They touted their assets and did their business wherever they could. Sometimes it would be a behind a curtain (sometimes the curtains wouldn’t even be closed) strung across an alleyway, other times they partnered with storeowners who had backrooms or basements.  
Some of the [Whores] rented rooms at inns they would bring clients to, or if the clients had their own rooms then they would gladly conduct their business there instead.

No preamble, no extra service, just the deed and nothing but the deed.

Just as a certain hairdressing chain on Erin’s world would say, everything can be done in 10 minutes!

It was these types that Seborn was looking to work with, since most establishments, and many freelancers for that matter, wouldn’t accept his business. Albeit for different reasons than with Moore.

**“I do NOT smell like FISH! And neither does my seed.”**  
Said Seborn to nobody in particular.

It was the most oft quoted reason for people to reject the business of the Drowned Man.  
It wouldn’t be good for business if their rooms stank of seafood, or if their second mouth smelled funny after everything was done (not that they necessarily smelled any better before he arrived).

And even then there were skills like [Honeyed Lips] and [Refreshing Scent] that took care of the problem.

Of course, there were business ladies who were desperate enough to do it for the right price, or simply didn’t care; but Seborn just wasn’t having any luck today.

**“Fuck this, I’m not wasting any more time! I got a better idea!”**

* * *

  
It was the same pattern wherever he went.  
Most women couldn’t handle his size.  
Some rooms couldn’t handle his size.  
Those who could, charged premium. Those who offered a “Girlfriend Experience” (with enough [Actor] levels to make the experience feel more “authentic”) charged even more.  
Including the establishment that Seborn recommended.

There were those who were desperate enough for money that they would try it, as well as [Pimps] who cared little about the wellbeing of their staff who would charge less, but those Moore stayed clear of.  
He had no desire to hurt people.

“I can take you. This body is about to wear out anyway. I’ve got one or two uses left before I need to swap bodies.”

Moore _stared_ at the woman in front of him. It was hard not to. She clearly had some “work” done on her body to make her stand out more.  
Black haired and dead-eyed, she had enough makeup on to mask her pale skin.  
While not classically beautiful, she was attractive in a more promiscuous way; with certain body parts made fuller through less than natural means.  
And... were those... rings(?) chains(?) he sees? Attached to her chest under her blouse?

She was, of course, a Selphid.

“Whaddya say? I’m not even gonna charge you extra.”

It was a tempting offer, and Moore was _really_ tempted.  
He was at an establishment run by Selphids, for Selphids. Or rather, some of their customers were other Selphids, but often times they had customers with more "extreme” tastes visit them. It would’ve been the establishment that Seborn would recommend to Jelaqua had she asked.  
The Selphids were not all in Human bodies, nor were the bodies all quite complete. The Gnoll in the corner was missing an arm, and the Drake had a somewhat blunted(?) tail.  
Perhaps that second one might have been deliberate.

They burned through bodies at an obscene rate of course, but this was Tortuga; anything could be bought for the right price.  
Including dead bodies.

The walls of the lobby were decorated with various implements. Some were long and thick, with obvious applications; but the rest were more _dubious_ in nature.  
For what reason would they need a giant fishhook?

Moore didn’t have anything against Selphids. He is part of the Halfseekers, after all. This establishment even had a magic tool that could be used to warm up the dead flesh temporarily for the customers who preferred more “lifelike” flesh.  
The prices were reasonable, and nobody would actually be getting hurt.

Perhaps this would be the place that Moore would spend the night?

* * *

  
Seborn was in a dimly lit, hot and musty room. The air was heavy with the scent of pleasure herbs and sweat. The occasional grunt could be heard from men and women alike.  
His eyes flicked left and right, never quite settling in one spot, making sure to take in everything lest he miss something.  
His fingers stroked smooth a smooth surface as he inhaled deeply, muscles tense, ready to take the plunge.  
His clawed hand, not quite built for delicate tasks, is still perfectly capable of grabbing things.  
And so it was his claw that shot forward and grabbed the thin material, careful not to damage the flimsy sheet.

Very slowly, he lifted to take a look...

**“BLACKJACK! Read ‘em and weep!”**

The people sitting around the table made various sounds of displeasure as they flung coins in Seborn’s direction. Some with more force that necessary.

Tortuga is home to all vices, and that includes gambling. Although running a gambling hall is risky business, what with classes that can manipulate objects, see through surfaces, or be straight up lucky.

While it is impossible for them to stop people from using skills entirely, anyone was free to accuse another person of cheating. The accused would then have to swear upon a Truth Stone.  
The House also kept its eyes out for people who were winning a little _too_ often. After all, the House should always win.

This world’s Blackjack is largely identical to the one in Erin’s world, albeit with different suites. The simple rules allowed for anyone to pick up the game in an instant.  
But unknown to Erin and Ryoka, they were sitting on another goldmine. This world lacked many of the games that utilized the standard deck and would greatly welcome more complex games like poker.

Seborn sat back and lounged as he took a deep drink of his beer.

***Ah... This is the life. Instead of scouring the streets trying to find someone who won’t scorn me, I’m over here drinking piss beer and wasting money***  
**“Now I kinda feel bad for dragging Moore here. Hope he’s having better luck than I did.”**

* * *

  
Moore was not having more luck so far.  
He was having some luck. Not all of it good.

For example, the bad:  
The nice Selphid lady nicely offered a nice refund when her nice body split nicely in half on the first strike.

Apparently, it was in a lot worse condition than she had thought it was in.  
It was an experience that he wouldn’t forget any time soon; and one he was sure some people of odd tastes would’ve paid a tidy sum for.

On the bright side, the nice Selphid lady nicely recommended a place for Moore to visit.  
According to her, there is a working class lady there who is, amazingly enough, sexually frustrated.

And so, with a heavy heart, he made his way pass rows of brothels to approach what was a single-storied building occupying a larger-than-usual plot of land.  
The log cabin sat incongruously at the edge of the Red Light District. It was dead silent, with not a customer in sight.

That did not bode well for Moore.

He has no idea if the person that he is looking for was extremely ugly, or perhaps has a very bad personality or temper; but for some reason there was not a single customer in or heading to the stall other than Moore.

Moore approached the larger-than-normal set of doors on the larger-than-normal cabin sheepishly.  
Normally he would simply enter the establishment, on account of the fact that knocking on doors with his giant blood enhanced strength often results in louder than intended sounds being produced; but in this case the place exuded an air of such _unwelcomeness_ that Moore hesitated for a few seconds.

Moore raised his fist.  
Then put it down again.  
After some deliberation he (gently) raised his voice and called out

“Hey, er... Miss?” Moore paused, “I was told to come here for a good time?”

Moore heard shuffling through the door, and some heavy thumping as the cabin's sole occupant approached the door.

“Well I'm afraid you've been lied to, sir. Or at least that’s what my customers would have me believe. Most of them leave halfway through, and some of them even ask for their money back!”  
The aforementioned occupant spoke in a calm voice, despite her apparent frustration.  
“I'm starting to think that I'm not cut out for this line of work.”

“Now don't say that miss. You sound like a very charming young lady.”  
“_Charm_ isn't quite the problem. Very well, I come on in. I'm hardly going to stop a prospective customer from entering. Perhaps we will be able to satisfy both our needs.”

Slowly, Moore pulled open one half of the double doors. A very odd thing to note is that the doors opened outwards rather than inwards like all the other establishments the briefly visited.  
He braced himself as he stepped inside, ready to gaze upon the monsters form that had driven away so many~

Oh…

That was unexpected.

Indeed, the person's charm isn't the problem. If there was a checklist of traits one would find that there were enough ticks in it to consider the person beautiful.

Long blonde luscious hair tied into a ponytail left enough of a side cringe to frame a lovely face with large blue eyes.  
Her mammy glands were not overly large, and were pert and shapely.  
Her body was athletic, but still soft in the right places.  
Her slender arms ended in carefully manicured digits.

And it all sat upon the lower body of a horse.

In other words, she was a centauress.

In most professions that wouldn't be a problem. Sure their body can be inconvenient at times, but their athleticism more than made up for it.  
It's just in this particular line of work that it would cause problems.

You see, centauress bodies were designed to mate with centaurs.  
And most people weren’t quite “comparable”.

Indeed, it must be a less than satisfying experience for both sides when trying to drive stimulation with a crevice that is capable of holding your entire arm.

But something tells them that that won’t be a problem this time.

What followed was a satisfying night of “mutual understanding”.

* * *

  
“Thanks Seborn”

“… Who the heck is Seborn?”


End file.
